


Under the Rough Exterior

by BekkaChaos



Series: Gallavich Drabbles [167]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Gen, High School AU, M/M, Mild Gay Slurs, mild violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-01
Updated: 2015-06-01
Packaged: 2018-04-02 08:59:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4054228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BekkaChaos/pseuds/BekkaChaos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><b><i>Ian and Mickey High School AU: </i></b>Mickey can’t stop thinking about Ian, even though he doesn’t want him in his head. When a chance encounter leaves them in one another’s company the animosity between them starts to bloom into something more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Under the Rough Exterior

Mickey stormed off angrily, Ian’s mouth parted as though he wanted to call back to him to say something but he didn’t. He just shoved his hands into his pockets, shaking his head and walking off towards the gymnasium.

He couldn’t _believe_ he’d felt guilty about treating Ian like a dick, he _was_ a dick. Maybe he hadn’t said any of those things himself but it didn’t matter. If that’s the kind of crap his friends said about him then he couldn’t think much better of him.

He could hear Karen calling out to him but he couldn’t stop moving, he was too pissed off, and maybe even a little hurt, not that he’d ever admit it.

He slowed down when he was about a block away from the school and finally Karen had the chance to catch up with him.

“What the fuck happened back there?” she asked, trying to catch her breath. “You know you made me run and I hate running.”

“You didn’t need to follow me,” he growled.

“What did he say to you?”

“Would you just fucking drop it?” he snapped, turning to face her for a moment.

She put her hands up and just nodded at him.

They walked for a few minutes in silence while she let him calm down.

“You know you’re only pissed off because you care too much,” she said without looking up.

“About _him_?” he scoffed. “He’s just another preppy asshole.”

“If you say so.”

“Would you stop that?”

“If that’s what you want.”

“Can’t you go and annoy my sister instead?”

Karen smiled. “She’s in detention.”

“What she do this time?”

“Nothing, Ms Green just hates her because she’s an old bitch,” she said with a roll of her eyes. “Besides, you and me hardly ever get alone time.”

He actually managed to find the smallest of smiles. “Fuck off I see too much of you already.”

“Better me than some preppy assholes though,” she said and he sighed.

_Probably right_ , he thought, but still he couldn’t help but feel the disappointment in him.

He tried not to think of Ian too much after that day, the problem was that even though he didn’t want him to cross his mind he would do so anyway. He would think of him outside the school hours, when he didn’t have to see him.

Those thoughts were generally shed in kinder light, thinking of how good he looked in the gym, especially when he was getting hot and sweaty, or of his quick witted tongue that Mickey enjoyed hearing from despite how arrogant his words could seem.

When he saw him in his classes the rage would come back and he would remember vividly the words his friends said and thought about how he must think them himself and he refused to look at him beyond that first glance.

On the first day back after the incident Ian tried to say something, an apology maybe, but Mickey refused to listen. He just walked away from him in gym and got up and flat walked out of his English class, not that his teacher cared about that.

Ian seemed to get the point. By the time the week was through he’d given up entirely, back to ignoring Mickey’s existence like he didn’t even know he existed, which up until a few weeks ago he practically didn’t.

It seemed stupid, they were never friends, never even more than just two guys in the same year group, but now there was just nothing between them and Mickey felt bitter at that. It’s not often anyone noticed him more than with just a scoff or a disgusted up-turn of their lip.

It was a Friday night and Mandy was trying to scrounge up something to eat but no one had stocked the kitchen in a few days. Mickey sat on one of the chairs in the living room, beer in his hand and lazily watching the show that his dad was screaming at.

He was trying to ignore him but he’d been throwing him snide comments all afternoon. It wasn’t unusual, but Mickey’s patience was somehow thinner than it normally was.

“Who gives a fuck about your fuckin’ English teacher?” he said when Mickey had complained about how biased Mr Loch was when it came to his work. “When are you gonna need to write a fuckin’ essay?”

“Just saying that the guy’s a fuckin’ asshole,” Mickey grumbled.

“Don’t be such a fuckin’ pussy,” he spat. “Why don’t you give up on that piss-weak dream of yours to finish school like it’s actually gonna happen and start earning some fuckin’ money? Mandy! What’s takin’ so long?”

“What do you expect me to make with baking soda and potatoes huh?” she yelled and Mickey just rubbed his head in frustration.

“Just put something on the fuckin’ stove!” he yelled before turning back to the TV. “Jesus you’d be better off in the fucking kitchen with your sister than you are at that school, lucky you made it past freshman year.”

He laughed to himself and yelled for Mandy to bring him a beer and Mickey was just tired of listening to him. He got up out of his seat, grabbing his jacket and just gritting his teeth.

“Where the fuck’re you going?”

“Out.”

Mandy gave him a look but he just stormed out the door, needing some air. His house was big enough but when his father was there is was downright claustrophobic.

He didn’t mind walking through the streets. He was wary of course, you had to be in the South Side, but he wasn’t someone people would approach on the streets, especially when he had his hood up.

He walked down the streets, past the baseball field and down the laneways by the bar district. There were a few places that had small crowds, the dull hum of laughter and chatter coming from the buildings. He made his way past them all and lit up a cigarette, he always kept a pack in his jacket pocket.

As he walked slowly away from the noise he took a long drag, rubbing his temples and leaning up in the shadows of one of the buildings. A few people walked by, probably on their way home by the way they were stumbling.

He sat himself down by the wall, leaning against it and dragging in the smoke, holding it in for as long as he could before blowing it out slowly. He heard another pair of feet, taking big steps down the road to his right. He didn’t think much of it until he heard some quick feet before the jeers of more than one man and the sound of a fist hitting flesh travelled around the corner.

“Thought you could just walk away huh?”

“Where do you think you’re going?”

Mickey turned his head to see the shadows, one man already having fallen to the floor while the other two stood by him, leaning in to punch him in the side when he tried to get up.

“Jesus, what is your fucking problem?”

Mickey’s ears picked up those words and they burned with them. _He knew that voice_.

He got to his feet and even though he thought he could hear Gallagher’s voice a part of him believed it was only because he had the redhead on his mind. He stood at the corner of the street and looked around, that unforgettable flash of red hair spinning as Ian took a fist to the chin.

He let out a loud grunt and spat some blood out onto the pavement, a hard grimace on his face as the men laughed while they kicked him in the side.

Mickey grit his teeth as he watched, knowing that he couldn’t just leave him there, at the hands of two drunken brutes. He shook his head with hesitation and growled when his feet started moving towards them.

“Hey, you there!” he yelled and the two guys looked up, ceasing their attack. “What seems to be the problem?”

“Walk away man, nothin’ to see here,” one of them said with a grin.

Mickey looked down at Ian as he looked up. He wasn’t sure if it was surprise or just panic in his eyes when he saw him standing there. Mickey scoffed a little.

“Yeah, bit late for that,” he said, looking up slowly.

“What the fuck you―” one of the men began before Mickey was swinging his fist into the side of his face.

He recoiled quickly, stepping back and tripping over one of Ian’s legs. Mickey gave the other guy a ‘go on then’ look but he was still stunned. He bounced on his toes, body side on, and swung at him much like he had done with the other.

This one yelled and turned his face aside and then keeled over as Mickey’s other fist collided with his stomach. The first guy        was back on his feet, snarling at Mickey and waving his fists madly but Mickey had the advantage of being quicker with his punches and far less inebriated.

He made contact with his ribs with one punch and then lurched forward to head-butt him, making him curse and clutch at his nose.

Before they could threaten him any more he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small pocket knife, flicking open the blade and holding it out towards them. They stared at it for a moment, looking up at him like he was crazy.

“I think it’s time for you to fuck off now,” Mickey said with a smirk.

“You’re fuckin’ crazy,” one of them said, clutching his bleeding nose.

“You wanna find that out then keep goin’, otherwise back the fuck off,” he said.

“You wanna defend this faggot then go ahead, come on…” he tapped his friend on the shoulder and they stalked off.

Mickey swallowed hard as he watched them, not taking his eyes off them until they were out of sight, his heart hammering loudly in his chest.

When he looked down at Ian he was sitting up a little, both palms on the ground as he regained his breath. He looked up from under his eyelashes, eyeing Mickey carefully as if he might turn on him too.

Mickey flicked the blade back into his knife, shoving it back into his pocket.

“You know for a track star I would have thought you could get away from assholes like them,” he said, stepping back and offering Ian a hand up.

Reluctantly, he took it, wincing as Mickey pulled him to his feet.

“They got the jump on me,” he said, losing his balance and crashing into Mickey’s shoulder.

Luckily he was ready for it.

“Yeah, yeah, good excuse,” he said, trying to steady him.

Ian’s hand clasped down on his shoulder and he clenched his teeth at the pain in his chest. He could already feel the bruises on his skin.

“You didn’t have to do that,” he said quietly and Mickey just tried to avoid his eyes.

“Whatever,” he said. “Come on, which way to your place?”

“You don’t have to―”

“You can't even stand on your own, you want me to leave you lyin’ in the street or you want me to leave you lyin’ on your doorstep? Pick one,” he said.

“It’s a decent walk.”

“I walked this far now shut the fuck up and start moving.”

Ian pointed out the direction and told him the address, only a few blocks from Mickey’s house. He hoisted him up higher and they stumbled down the road but Ian needed a few minutes to collect himself before he was going anywhere.

They found a bench on the side of the street and sat down, Mickey sitting as far from the warm heat of Ian’s body as he could manage. Being so close to him for even a short period of time was overwhelming his senses.

He put a hand to his ribs and Mickey watched as he sucked in the air as he stretched out.

“Broken ribs maybe?” he asked and Ian shook his head.

“Don’t that before, this isn’t that bad. Probably just bruising,” he said, still looking at Mickey with caution. “You always carry a knife on you?”

Mickey smiled to himself, looking down at his feet. “You _don’t_ carry a knife when you’re out walkin’ in the South Side?”

“Not when I’m― you know security at clubs don’t like it when you bring weapons in,” he said.

“Do I look like a guy who goes to clubs?” he said with a raised eyebrow.

Ian looked him over and leant back against the bench. “Guess not.”

They were silent for a moment before Ian turend his eyes back to Mickey, this time with more curiosity than caution.

“So why did you stop them?” he asked quietly.

Mickey shrugged. “I don’t know what you…”

“You could have let them leave me a bloody pulp in the middle of the road, but you didn’t,” he said.

“You like being roadkill?” he asked with a quick look to the side.

“No,” he said. “But I distinctly remember you threatening to turn me into it if I ever came near you again.”

“Yeah I have a temper,” Mickey said. “And you can be a bit of a dick.”

Ian laughed a little, clutching at his side. “I never said any of it, and you wouldn’t let me apologise.”

“Yeah, yeah, doesn’t mean you can't be a dick.”

“I guess,” he said. “How’d you know I run track?”

“What?”

“You said―”

“Are we done with the small-talk? Can you walk yet or do I got to fuckin’ carry you?” he asked as he got up and looked around.

Ian nodded silently, pushing himself up. He was still a bit wobbly on his feet but Mickey made a decent support.

They walked for what seemed like a long time without either of them saying a word. Mickey was afraid of snapping again and Ian knew that if he pushed the wrong buttons he’d be left trying to get home on his own so he kept his mouth shut.

When they turned onto his street he finally spoke up.

“My house is just up there, I can probably make it if you want to get back home,” he said and Mickey just scoffed.

“Yeah, right,” he said.

They walked up to the Gallagher house and Mickey remembered walking past it when he was a kid, there was always something going on at the Gallagher’s. The same could be said for his own house.

As they opened the gate and let it swing shut the front door opened and a worried looking young woman with wavy brown hair came running out.

“Jesus Christ Ian what the hell happened?” she said.

“I’m fine Fiona, just a couple of thugs on the street,” he said and her eyes turned to Mickey.

“And you were, what, walking by?” she asked.

“Walkin’ clears my head,” he said and she raised an eyebrow. “Came round the corner to see him getting’ mugged, recognised him from class.”

Her eyes got a little wider. “You’re in his classes? Aren’t you Terry Milkovich’s kid?”

Mickey felt a little sting at that, the stigma of being a Milkovich not one that can be easily dropped.

“Fiona how about we just get inside, please?” Ian said quickly.

“Come on,” she said, walking back up the stairs to open the door for them.

Mickey felt weird at going inside and Fiona ran to the freezer as soon as the door was closed to get some ice. He helped Ian into one of the kitchen chairs and stepped back awkwardly, edging towards the door.

“You need anything else? Your face is kinda bruised up but what about the rest of you?” she asked.

“More of the same, look, I know you were going out with Vee so just go, I’ll be fine,” he said and Mickey finally noticed that Fiona was dressed up like she was ready to hit the town.

“Ian I―”

“Never get a night out because there’s always something wrong with one of us? Yeah, that sucks,” he said and she gave him a shake of her head and a light smile. “I’m home and I’m fine, just go.”

She rolled her eyes and pulled him in to kiss the part of his face that wasn’t purple of swollen. “You call me if you need me.”

“I won't need to,” he said and reluctantly she headed out.

Mickey was still standing awkwardly by the door, thinking that maybe he could slip out and avoid having to say anything.

“You can grab a glass of water if you want, we might have beer but it’s electric week so the budget’s been a bit tight,” he said as he put the ice to his face.

“I’m good, just gonna go,” he said, pointing to the door and turning around.

“Wait,” Ian said and he looked back over his shoulder. “You told Fiona it was a mugging, it wasn’t. You know that.”

“Clearly two guys just looking to crack some skulls, what does it matter what I told her?” he said defensively.

“Because you heard what they said after you pulled the knife on them,” Ian said slowly.

Mickey remembered it clearly. The adrenaline had been rushing and it was starting to do so again when he realised that maybe Ian was trying to tell him that their words had been true.

“Look I don’t know why you think I wanna stick around after draggin’ your ass back here, but I really gotta go,” he said and walked to the door.

As he was about to turn the handle to open it Ian’s voice made him freeze again, only this time he didn’t turn around.

“Mickey,” he said. “Why did you save me from them?”

He thought about saying something, thought about saying anything. Instead, after a moment’s hesitation, he opened the door and left without another word.

When he made it home Mandy saw the blood on his bruised knuckles.

“What the hell did you do?” she asked and he just shrugged.

“You think this is bad you should see the other guys,” he said and his father had laughed.

“Now that’s more like it,” he said and Mickey just walked straight to his bedroom, he just wanted to be alone.


End file.
